Chapter Text
Vincent Valentine reminds her of Tifa.
Whether it is the truth or a fantasy conjured up by a lonely woman desperately looking for fragments of an absent lover, Aerith cannot say, but those similarities she sees are buried far deeper than appearance; plagued by memories and regrets, they close their hearts off from others - though Tifa is more personable and effective at feigning otherwise.
So it comes as little surprise that when the group - Aerith offers no information on Tifa’s whereabouts or current predicament, no matter how passionately Barret yells or how quietly Cloud worries; she can’t recall saying 'I don’t know' so much in her life - returns to Nibelheim on one of Cloud’s side ventures, Aerith finds Vincent and Cloud engaged in a heated card game outside of the Shinra manor.
Watching from a distance, hidden first behind the building and then the husk of a tree showing early signs of regrowth, she silently cheers when Cloud claims victory. Aerith observes as Vincent offers him a card and a word of warning, his voice lower and sterner than usual. Aerith can't hear exactly what he says, but given it’s a game of cards, she has no reason to deny her curiosity; when Cloud approaches the nearby bench, Aerith peeks out from her newest hiding place.
"Hey, Cloud!" She greets with far more energy than she feels.
"Aerith." He nods, curiously focused on his new card. Given he makes no effort to hide it, she glances over his shoulder and takes in its design.
"I've never seen that card before, don’t they usually depict monsters?" She points to the strange woman in white and green. With a closer look, she seems familiar. "Is she Cetra?"
"Who knows? She's apparently the 'Emerald Witch' who once defeated the cursed 'Shadowblood Queen' who the game is named for." Cloud shrugs, parroting the legend with indifference. "Or so the stories say; if I didn't see memories of the Queen's remnants myself, I'd have considered it superstition."
"May I have a look?" If the woman is Cetra, she may be a figure from histories long lost. Even if neither the Planet nor Aerith will ever know the truth of her story, or whether or not there was truly a Witch and Queen, she would still like to remember this woman.
"Sure." Cloud offers it to her.
Despite the card's age, it is in pristine condition. Adorned with greenery, it exudes a peaceful atmosphere and even feels cool to the touch. When she brushes the painted woman’s face, a light trickling energy flows into her finger, fading only after briefly pulling Aerith along with it, as if in welcome. Curious as to the nature of the spell, for it certainly isn’t strong enough to truly damage anyone, she accepts the Witch’s ‘summons,’ letting her magic flow out when they come into contact for a second time.
The reaction is instantaneous; from her extremities, a flood of icy fluid, far deeper and more extensive than the previously-gentle call assured, courses into her veins. Aerith instinctively attempts to release her hold and push Witch’s magicks away, but the card’s enchantments trap her, leaving her vulnerable and at their mercy.
Into white and green, Aerith’s world shifts and roils. Cloud dissipates and Nibel’s blue skies melt away, becoming a blank caricature; in the place of a rugged landscape, she sees only the lifestream’s blinding glow.
At the center of this caged, infinite world is a featureless pool of mako, blurring into the blank horizon as an ocean meets the sky. Standing atop its unmoving waters, adorned in ceremonial robes, hair flowing as it spills into the green, is the woman. Her toes just pressed into the mako’s placid surface, each breath spreads ripples that expand until they fade from sight, the only movement in this world inevitably lost in an endless void of light.
Even bound as they are by unadorned cloth, somehow Aerith recognizes when the woman opens her eyes.
Aerith knows what she sees isn't real, yet when the Emerald Witch’s lips move, she can almost hear her words, almost feel the gentle pressure of her sorceries, a caress over her skin like a warm breeze and soft fingers.
In the silence of this sealed woman's timeless dream, Aerith listens and Aerith learns.
And Aerith weeps.
Valuable, magnificent, imperative to the future of humanity -
Shinra has described Aerith using various condescending and unflattering titles in the past, but as she passes through the Sleeping Forest and into the Forgotten Capital, lonely and longing, she feels less like the future and more like a weathered relic, its features worn away until indistinguishable from its surroundings.
The ruins of Gongaga were just that - ruins - but in the capital some few houses remain, evidence of lost technologies and hints at a way of life Aerith, her mother, or even her grandmother, had never known. White, slate blue, and gray, each stand muted in stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the rest of the Planet.
The only sharp splash of color in this lost, nearly monochrome land is borne by the woman standing in Aerith’s path.
"Tifa. . ." She looks the same as she always does, save that the shirt they had chosen in Corel has been retired and replaced with a white top similar, if not identical, to the one she typically favors.
She can become those you love, Sephiroth had apparently said.
"No," Aerith sighs softly in resignation. "How would you like me to address you?"
"I am still Tifa." She says softly and Aerith wants to believe the sadness in her eyes is more than a mimicry - she might even have done so, if the entity that wears Tifa’s face wasn’t preventing her passage.
"Why are you here?" Aerith asks, knowing full well that Tifa continues her self destructive course driven by instincts outside of her control.
"Why are you here?" Tifa counters.
Neither of them need to answer, nor do they need an answer, so clear are their purposes.
"I promised to protect you." Aerith reiterates her goal nonetheless.
"This isn't protecting anyone."
Aerith shakes her head.
"This is something only I can do.”
"I won't let you go." Tifa looks unsettlingly wild in growing desperation.
"That is not your choice to make." Aerith stands firm, even at Tifa’s despair. "If you are so worried, stay at my side. I know you’ll keep me safe."
This time, it is Tifa who shakes her head, taking half of a step back, shifting her feet into what Aerith knows to be a defensive position. "Let me handle it. Please,” Tifa begs, discarding her pride and pleading so low that Aerith hears it more on her skin than through her ears. “Return to the others. I can stop Sephiroth from the source.”
Her heart thuds, but not in uncertainty. A terrifying, overwhelming revelation churns in Aerith's stomach.
"And then what?"
Aerith wants to cry, wants to silence her traitorous self, but she stands firm, meeting eyes circled in red and exhausted shadow.
"And then it's not Sephiroth that's the threat, but you?" Tifa jerks back at the condemnation. "Look at yourself, Tifa. You're barely holding together."
Her beautiful hair, hair which Aerith had brushed with her fingers not long ago, has countless tangles; her stockings are uneven, one set higher than the other, and her lips are chapped and dry.
Tifa closes her eyes and takes a quivering breath, the fear in her doing little to alleviate Aerith’s sorrowful understanding.
"If it comes down to it, I can't defeat you. I probably couldn't before, and now it's impossible." She knows Tifa doesn’t want to fight; Aerith has no intention of provoking her. "It took an entire race to seal Jenova. Even if you are not yet complete, I am merely a single, half Cetra. What chance do I have?"
"Then we are at an impasse." Tifa’s voice shakes, tears escaping. "Come with me."
As Aerith trembles, she looks up into the sky.
Distant from civilization, the stars are so clear and beautiful; she had never seen anything like them before leaving on their journey, finally free of Midgar's thick pollutants.
Aerith knows vaguely of constellations, of star clusters and their meanings; Tifa would know more. Perhaps a younger Tifa would sit atop her water tower, looking at the stars and naming the shapes she sees, too.
But what else is up there? How many lives?
This isn't just about Aerith and Tifa.
Aerith takes a tentative step forward, not drawing her weapon.
While trapped, she had been scared and had retaliated against Tifa; Aerith still doesn't know if her previous threat of combat was wise or if she had pushed her partner away forever - she didn’t have time to question then and she doesn’t now.
A second step forward and her heart thuds in her ears.
A third step and the Planet cries its feeble warning.
And at her fourth step, Aerith pauses.
How had she not noticed how different Tifa looks?
From the shade of hair longer than it once was, to the discoloration of her eyes, red fading to pink, to the absent marks on her now-clear skin, to an ethereal curve of lips different from those Aerith has previously found so pleasing, the face before her is wrong, each feature a blur through tear-filled eyes.
Aerith nonetheless commits it all to memory.
Before she can second guess herself, she takes Tifa's hands, holding both between hers.
"I wanted to see the stars with you." She whispers.
Tifa freezes.
It's the only opening Aerith will get.
There are no words, no prayers; this is a spell that a lost, despairing woman created specifically for her. In this place, abundant with the planet's energies, she calls.
It comes so easily now, compared to when she was bound by the veil in Tifa's illusion. Having eventually learned to overcome the deception’s chaotic, altered planetary flow, even the limited capabilities of her half-blood are no longer hindering.
The Emerald Witch defeated the Shadowblood Queen, once, saving her people.
But as Tifa's eyes widen in shocked betrayal, as her flesh dissipates into a black mist and finally reforms into a tiny red gem filled with swirling darkness -
Aerith knows that it was the Witch who was truly defeated.
In the depths of an ancient pool, waters still and pure, two gems, red and white, come to rest together, forever undisturbed.
Far away, in a secure and colorless facility, a Shinra-marked regulatory machine beeps in alert:
The culture SSD - XJ02 grows at an unprecedented rate.